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Authors: Brett Patton

Mecha Corps

BOOK: Mecha Corps
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Table of Contents
 
 
 
 
PUT UP OR SHUT UP
“We could get killed out there?” asked a loud, clear voice from the group. It belonged to a deeply tanned woman in her thirties, wearing a sand-colored jumpsuit.
Soto looked at her but addressed the group. “You fought long and hard to be invited. Did you think it would be any less of a fight once you got here?” Soto looked at his watch. “We’ll begin in thirty seconds.”
One man took off his face shield and threw it down. “This is crazy! I didn’t come here for this!”
“You may quit at any time,” Soto said. “The rest of you will begin in twenty seconds.”
Matt’s heart thumped triple time to the countdown in his head. His entire field of vision shook with the intensity of his fear, but at the same time, he’d never felt so alive.
Matt glanced down at his Aurora University duffel bag. It contained his clothes, his diploma, and a single reminder of his childhood: a toy Imp Mecha, battered and worn by his passage through a dozen refugee ships. He’d miss the Imp, but he was now at Mecha Training Camp. There wasn’t a single thing in the bag that mattered anymore.
Two, one, zero,
he thought.
Better become a hero.
“Go,” Major Soto said.
ROC
Published by New American Library, a division of
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First published by Roc, an imprint of New American Library,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
First Printing, December 2011
Copyright © Penguin Group (USA), Inc., 2011
All rights reserved
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PUBLISHER’S NOTE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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ISBN : 978-1-101-55906-2

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For Lisa, who thinks atomic weapons are hilarious
“You are remembered for the rules you break.”
—Douglas MacArthur, General of the Army,
United States of America
 
“Nobody is ever born into this world as a soldier.”
—Rau Le Creuset, Elite ZAFT Commander,
Mobile Suit Gundam SEED
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you to the following individuals. Without their sup port, this book would never have been written.
Pete Harris, who was my mentor throughout.
Matthew Cohen, who thought it would be a good idea for Pete and I to talk.
Lisa, and her unending patience and understanding.
MECHA CLASSES
Excerpted from Mecha Cadet Training Content
Version 4.1.a, 04.13.2316
PREMECHA
POWERLOADER: A simple, powered exoskeleton used for transport of heavy loads or augmentation of manual labor. Widely used across the Universal Union, Corsair Confederacy, and other Interstellar Governmental Organizations (IGOs). Typical height: 2.5–3 m. Typical weaponry: none.
MECHANICAL MECHA
RASCAL: An augmented PowerSuit, first used in combat at Pellham’s Front (Union colony). Still used on many fringe worlds of the Union, as well as on independent Displacement Drive ships. Typical height: 3–3.5 m. Typical weaponry: 5–15 mm depleted-uranium rifles, cutting laser.
IMP: A large, tough Mecha design. Extensively used in both warfare and industry. Arguably the Mecha best known to the general public. Typical height: 8–8.5 m. Typical weaponry: 15–30 mm depleted-uranium rifles, cutting laser.
VILLIAN: The last of the fully mechanical Mecha, built entirely for warfare. Led Union Army to decisive victory at Forest (former Corsair colony.) Extensive armament; exceptionally rugged. Typical height: 9 m. Typical weaponry : 15–30 mm depleted-uranium rifles, cutting laser, guided missiles.
BIOMECHANICAL MECHA
ROGUE: First-generation biomechanical Mecha from Advanced Mechaforms, Inc. Rogues transformed Mecha into the de facto surgical engagement tool of the Universal Union in the victory at New Jericho colony. Limited transformational capability. Typical height: 8 m. Typical weaponry: 10 mm depleted-uranium rifles, pulsed fusion device, antipersonnel missiles.
HELLION: The standard second-generation biomechanical Mecha. Larger and more powerful than Rogue class. Neural buffering improves pilot usability. Good transformational ability; limited combinational ability. Typical height: 10 m. Typical weaponry: 15 mm depleted-uranium rifles, antipersonnel and guided missiles, pulsed fusion device, antimatter rifle.
DEMON: Planned third-generation Mecha with both excellent transformational and combinational ability. Much larger than Hellion class. Exponential power capability. Additional . Typical height: 30 m. Typical weaponry: .
PART ONE
EARTH
1
DISPLACEMENT
This is stupid,
Matt Lowell thought, as the airlock cycled down to vacuum.
Bright red letters on the hatch read UUS
MERCURY
SURFACE-ACCESS PORT 3A—NO EGRESS AT DISPLACEMENT. And yet here he was, getting ready to go outside, with Displacement only minutes away.
Matt licked dry lips and took a deep, shuddering breath. Yeah. It was dumb. But he had to do it. This was his last day as a civilian. It was time to say good-bye to his old life.
The air-lock screen flashed bright red: AIRLOCK EVACUATED. But Matt stayed on the steel bench a moment longer.
You don’t have to say good-bye like this,
he thought.
Go back inside and watch the Displacement from the viewports, like everyone else.
No. He’d already slipped the digger a twenty for his ill-fitting space suit. And Displacement was close. He might not have time to unsuit and make it to the viewing deck.
Matt sighed and levered the air lock open. The surface of the UUS
Mercury
looked like any other Displacement Drive ship: dusty, brittle gray rock, punctuated by air locks, hatches, antennae, and reconnaissance towers. A converted asteroid. So much like the refugee ships he used to call home.
Matt slipped out onto the surface and tugged the lock closed.
Mercury
’s bridge rose against the short horizon, a shining metal cliff with bright-lit windows. Uniformed crew members gathered around colorful displays beyond the glass.
Matt’s heart hammered. Could the crew see him? He shuffle-stepped behind the air lock, cursing the microgravity. If he moved too fast, he could build enough velocity for a one-way trip into deep space.
On the other side of the air lock, Matt crouched, taking big breaths of suit air that stank of recycled sweat and asteroid. He expected warning Klaxons to blare on his comms and blinding security lights to flare any second.
But nothing happened. Matt’s thundering heartbeat slowed. On this side of the air lock, the brittle gray-white rock and dust of the UUS
Mercury
’s surface was unbroken. It was as if he were alone on a pristine asteroid, whirling through space.
Matt smiled. This was right. He needed to be here. It might be dangerous to be outside during Displacement, but it wasn’t that crazy. Yeah, everyone had a story about an uncle who lost a hand or a head when the Displacement field went unstable, but when you pressed them, they’d waffle. You’d find the uncle had been standing on a five-meter scaffold, or hanging ten meters out on an unauthorized dock. If you stayed near the surface, you were pretty safe. Matt had done it a hundred times as a kid, lying on the rock and watching the stars change. It was the best view in the universe.
Beneath him, the UUS
Mercury
shivered slightly. Most likely the last of the heavy cargo ships arriving. Matt imagined the giant freighter nestling into one of
Mercury
’s titanic bays, and the steel doors grinding soundlessly shut. It wouldn’t be long before Displacement.
He lay down on the surface. In the microgravity, it took several long seconds for him to settle. He put his hands behind his head, like he was relaxing on a beach in the sun.
BOOK: Mecha Corps
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